Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I practically grind myself against his palm.
He’s going to win this game.
I don’t care.
“And you’re as charming as a rock,” I say, attempting to keep my dignity, even though that’s long gone. I lost it the moment he sucked a nipple and I made some very filthy sounds.
“I like it when you lie to me.” He sucks my nipples hard as his fingers slip beneath my panties. “My pet fox, I don’t think a woman gets this wet for a man she doesn’t find charming.”
“Physical reaction. Not at all my fault.”
“Your body is you.” His fingers slide up and down my folds. “And I’m going to make you feel good.”
“You’re very cocky, you know that?”
“I’m confident. There’s a difference.”
“How are you so sure you can make me come, huh?”
“You begged me to suck your nipple. I suspect you’ll like it even more when I tongue your clit.”
I let out a high-pitched moan. “Okay, that’s a fair assumption, but you’re forgetting something.”
“Which is?”
“I dislike you.”
“I also dislike you. What’s that have to do with this?” His fingers slide inside of me and I freaking purr as his tongue flicks over my nipple.
“Everything,” I whisper, trying to stay focused, but my brain’s slipping to that lovely place where nothing hurts and nothing matters, riding up along the edge of the abyss.
“You’re wrong about that.” He moves down, kissing as he goes, and peels off my panties before spreading my legs wide. I grip the sheets, pulse racing deep into my core. “Sex has nothing to do with love.” His tongue licks up and down, lapping me as he reaches up to play with my nipples. Fucker’s already learned what I like.
“Does to me.” I squeeze my eyes shut and consider telling him about my virginity, but decide against it. What’s that matter to him? This is just one time, just once to get it out of our system. I’ll never fuck him, not for real.
“Then you’re wrong.” He fucks me with his fingers, which is basically heaven, then he uses his freshly soaked hand to rub against my nipple. Which feels like fucking heaven.
He licks and sucks me, making these illicit sounds, noises so filthy they make me writhe and moan all the louder. Nipple and clit, licking, sucking, teasing, fingers deep inside then back up against, around and around, going faster, until there are no more words. Only sounds, only sensations, only my fingers digging into the sheets.
“You want to come,” he says, staring at me in the eye. “Tell me how you want it.”
“Bastard,” I say, panting hard, right on the edge.
“Come on, Fallon. Tell me.”
“Suck my nipple. Fuck me with your fingers. Do it now.”
He obeys. My husband. He sucks, tongue swirling, as his big fingers spread me apart, sliding in and out, and fuck, it throws me right over the edge into heaven. I come and come, orgasming on his fingers as he licks and licks and sucks and I’m gone, I’m done, he reduces me to a drooling wreck.
When I’m through, and I’m lying on my back twitching with the aftereffects, he slides his fingers into my mouth.
“Lick,” he commands.
And God help me, but I obey. I clean myself off him, staring into his eyes.
“Good girl,” he whispers and kisses my neck, and fuck, I hate myself, but I love hearing those words.
I am a good girl. I am such a good girl.
He gets up and disappears into the bathroom. I hear the shower start, some low groans, and a loud grunt. It is extremely sexy, thinking of my husband in that room, stroking himself off because he can’t help himself.
But before he can come out, I get out of bed and throw on my clothes. I escape back into the guest room, slam the door, and lock it. I’m breathing hard, sweat beading between my sore and aching nipples.
Guilt slams into me, so heavy it’s like I might sink through the casino, down into its dungeons.
This man killed Papa. He murdered my father, ruined my family, nearly destroyed everything I hold dear.
Now Rian’s forced to be the clan chief and here I am, sold to him like cattle, and I let him get me off.
It’s pathetic. It’s worse than pathetic—I’m a traitor to my father’s name.
There’s a soft knock at my door. I yelp, but I don’t move. I keep my back to it, holding it shut in case he wants to break it down.
“Go away,” I tell him.
“You can stay in there tonight,” he says, his voice muted through the door, but I feel as though he’s whispering up against my throat. “But tomorrow, when it’s time to go to sleep, you will be in my bed. Do you understand? You have one night to acclimate, and that’s only because you were such a good girl, a very good girl, Fallon.”